


Collisions

by LadyoftheWoods



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blood, Blood and Injury, Car Accidents, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Angst, Happy Ending, Hospitals, Human AU, Intrulogical, Oneshot, Serious Injuries, Suicidal Thoughts, Sympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Logic | Logan Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25016419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: He sees the car.He sees Logan.It's not even a choice.
Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 39
Kudos: 244
Collections: fic to read when I have bad feelings





	Collisions

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun to write. Don't know where it came from, but I really like it!

He was a star. 

A brilliant, shining ball of light in the endless darkness of the universe. 

A magnetic pull so strong surely nothing could escape his orbit. 

He was bright and warm and so, so distant. 

He was impossible. 

It was impossible. 

He’d never known the meaning of the word impossible. 

That’s how they got here, he supposes. 

The star is so bright, right now, speaking, saying words, no doubt smart words, he always was the smartest person in the room, and he seemed to glow, a brilliant, blazing white, though that could just be the reflection of the street lamp off the wet pavement. 

His ears were ringing. Which was a shame, really, because he wanted to hear what the star was saying to him, what marvelous poetry was leaving his lips, but he couldn’t hear anything. 

That’s not true. Not entirely. He could hear something. It was almost like the bass coming out of a stereo turned too loud, the thumping of a steady beat, slowly becoming erratic and wrong, out of pace with the rest of the song. 

He felt wet. Warm wet. Not the rain. The rain was cold. It made him shiver, it felt like needles, against his skin. He saw a hint of red, tried to turn his head to see more, to get a glimpse, but the star stopped him, held him still. 

The star was looking into his eyes, almost desperately, pleadingly, and his lips were moving, but for all the suns in the universe, he couldn’t make out anything, even trying to read his lips was a blur, everything was a blur. 

There was that beat again. It fluttered like a snare, now, rat a tatting against his ribcage, and he realized it must be his heart. Idly, he thought hearts aren’t supposed to beat like that. 

Then again, people aren’t supposed to be hit by cars, are they? They’re not made for the force of that impact, to go flying over windshields, to go crashing against glass, to have bones turned at sharp angles and blood in their lungs. 

Oh. 

Was that it? 

It must be. 

He dimly remembered something like that. Rain, clouds, drizzle, the star, walking, head in a book, and the car was speeding, going at least 45 down a main street in the small downtown, and the star had stepped off the curb, and the car had come down the street, and he’d had a moment to do something, or not. 

And of course, he acted. 

Of course, he shoved the star out of the way. 

Of course, he went flying head over heels, just as he’d fallen for the star, who in all likelihood, didn’t even know his name. 

That didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that the star didn’t know him. The star was so bright, so brilliant, he couldn’t stand to see it dimmed, see it extinguished, not when it knew so much about so much, not when he was the smartest person he knew, not when he could listen to the star speak for hours and hours about ecosystems, the universe, the world, the concept of identity itself, he’d chosen most of his classes hoping they were the ones the star would take, because he loved to listen to him speak, he often knew more than the teachers did, and anyways, it’s not like he had a plan. 

Not like he’d had much of a future, even before he became a human pancake.

For some reason that though made him grin, though he felt blood on his tongue, coating his teeth. 

And they said Roman was the hero, well. His last act of brotherly spite would be to steal Roman’s blurb in the year book, hero student saves local star from car crash, the universe thanks him for it. God, it would be a nightmare trying to find a presentable picture of himself for it, one where he wasn’t covered in paint or goo or some other substance, he’d made for his art. 

He heard something. It was loud enough it could reach through his haze, reach through his ears, he recognized it as sirens, and suddenly strobing light illuminated the star from behind his closed lids, huh, when had he closed his eyes? 

“-us. Remus. Stay. Awake. You need to stay awake.” He jolted at that, eyes flying open, like a shot of adrenaline to his heart, because everything blurred and colors seeped into each other like an oversaturated watercolor painting, but Star had said his name, knew his name, and though his limbs were numb and tingling, he could feel a hand in his, squeezing tight.

He coughed, spitting, feeling himself start to shake, unable to stop, the tremors racing through him, like his own personal earthquake, tearing down his buildings and starting his mind on fire, as it struggled to regain balance, regain composure, but his heart was racing, on the verge of giving out, and it hurt like hell to breathe, and the world was fading out around him, and distantly, he heard shouting, heard loud beeping growing more frantic, heard his star begging him to stay awake, but he couldn’t. 

He just… 

Couldn’t.  
…  
“-male severe trauma-"  
“-coding-"  
“-internal bleeding…. Can’t see where-“  
…  
Beep. Beep. Beep.

Wow, that noise was annoying. 

A snuffling sound, muted, someone trying to stifle their sobs. 

Heh. He must still be dreaming. No one would cry over him. 

He might cry though, because despite the wonderful painkillers he was no doubt being pumped full of, he hurt like a son of a bitch. 

He must have made some movement, some small sound, because suddenly there was a hand on his arm, a presence near him, and he’d recognize that feel anywhere.

“Remus. Remus you better not give up on me, you hear me? I swear, I swear, I will hunt you down and kill you again if you die here. Jumped in front of a car, who does that, who jumps in front of a car!?” Roman was still talking, but he couldn’t hear him anymore. 

His thoughts fizzled out as the beeping stopped, becoming one long tone. He could almost hear yelling, almost feel something jolt his chest, almost hear Roman, screaming, but he didn’t.

He fell back into darkness.  
…  
Tumbling. 

Tumbling through time and space and memories. 

Here he and Roman played with each other, well, tried to. Roman kept building lego towers, and he kept playing Godzilla, stomping and kicking and roaring as he destroyed Roman’s painstaking creations. It always ended in a fight. 

Here it was their first day of school, and some bully made fun of Roman because he was anxious and cried when their mom left them there. Not ten minutes later she got a call from the principle. Because he’d punched the bitch in the face and nearly broken his nose. Called him a bitch to his face, too, but he didn’t care about the trouble. It made Roman smile. 

Here it was the start of the end of the two of them as a duo, their first day of high school. Roman fit in so well, with his perfect smile and talent for art and theater and music that was finally appreciated, and there wasn’t room for him anymore, with his unbrushed hair, his wild smile, his blurting mouth, his twisted drawings and horrored paintings, he was just the wierdo, the outcast, the no good brother that always was in some kind of trouble. 

Here Roman was yelling at him. They were having a fight. 

“Why can’t you just be normal for once!?” Roman had shouted, and despite the pain in his chest he forced back his tears, because everyone else hated him or was scared of him or thought he was just going nowhere but he’d thought Roman still cared. 

“Because that’s not who I am! What do you want me to do, Roman?!” He’d yelled back. 

“I want you to stop embarrassing me for a single fucking second!” He’d frozen, reeling back, that stung more than anything else, it broke something inside him, and he felt wetness dripping down his face, felt like screaming, but his breath was caught in his throat. 

He turned and walked out the door. 

There wasn’t anything else he could do. 

If Roman wanted to hurt him that way, fine. Fine, he could take it, he had taken it, from everyone else, it had been stupid to assume just because Roman was his twin that he wouldn’t get sick of him eventually, just like everyone else. It was stupid to hope Roman wanted him around. Stupid to hope Roman liked him. 

So he just walked away. Because if he stayed a moment longer, he’d say something back, say something cruel, and he refused to do that, even now, refused to hurt Roman, who didn’t deserve it. 

That’s why he’d been outside the library, angrily staring at his sketchbook, hands shaking, vision blurred. 

That’s why he’d seen Logan, his star, his universe, his planet, exit the building, lost in a book. 

That’s why his gaze had followed him as he stepped off the pavement, as the car zoomed at least 20 miles over the speed limit, down the street. 

That’s why he’d leapt off his feet and gone running, shoving Logan out of the way, everything moving too fast and too slow as the car tried to brake, but there wasn’t enough time, and he couldn’t help laughing a little, inside, because of course. Of course this would happen to him.  
…

Words. 

Words. A voice. A voice speaking. No. 

Reading. A voice reading. 

It sounded a bit shaky. 

That seemed odd, for some reason. He knew that voice, but he couldn’t remember ever hearing it sound anything less than absolutely sure of itself. 

It also seemed odd that it would be here, in this… hospital? Must be, nowhere else smelled like plastic gloves and bleach. Well. He could name a few other places that probably smelled like that, but he doubted an ambulance would deliver him to the nearest clean freaks’ orgy. 

Back to the voice. Something about the universe. Something about planets. Something about… stars. 

It took him a long few minutes, to open his eyes. So long, he started to wonder if he even had eyes, or if he was doomed to darkness forever, but still, he struggled to the surface of awareness, if just barely, the world still fuzzed and blurred around the edges, like an old photograph corroded by time and sunlight. 

Not quite sepia. Not quite gray. Just a paleish, tannish, muddled, mess. 

White ceiling. White bed, white sheets, white everything, jesus, was he in a hospital or abducted by aliens? No wonder these people were doctors, no appreciation for art among them, apparently. He already had about a dozen mural designs sketched out in his head, at least four of which would actually be pg enough for a hospital room. 

The voice. The voice had stopped. 

He managed to turn his head, though it took all the effort in the world, that simple motion, and met the wide eyed stare of Logan Star, his star, his universe, his planet, his orbit, not that Logan knew it. Not that anyone did. 

“You’re awake.” Logan said, a bit breathless, a bit afraid, a bit relieved. He managed a small smile, letting out a deep sigh that had him wincing at the pull in his chest. 

“Such a disappointment, I know. Don’t tell my parents, give them a few more hours of peace.” He said flippantly, an ache settling into his bones. Logan made a noise half between a strangled kitten struggling for air and an exasperated goose honking.

“remus. You almost died. Multiple times. They… the doctors weren’t sure you were going to wake up. Ever.” He laughed at that, wincing at the pain it caused, turning his head back to stare up at the ceiling. 

“well. What difference would it have made? It would almost have been better, if I didn’t wake up. ‘S not like I have a future. Not like anyone would care.” His words started to slur, exhaustion washing over him, but he was afraid, suddenly afraid, to fall back asleep, because what if he didn’t wake up again, after all? “Would ya tell Ro I know he’s sorry, and ‘s okay? I know he didn’t mean it. Well, no, he meant it, but I… understand. He’s right, about me. Always… always is.” He thought he felt a hand slip into his, felt the bed dip slightly, felt a hand stroking his hair, as he slipped back under.  
…  
He’s lost. 

It was dark all around him, and he’s lost. He couldn’t find the path, couldn’t find the way out, he was trapped down, down, down in the dark again, and he felt himself start to panic, because he didn’t want to be here, it was too small and too dark and too deep and he wanted OUT! 

A voice. No. Two voices, talking lowly, talking quietly, almost afraid. He knew them, he needed them, he needed them to be louder, he needed to follow them out of here. He could feel the dark swirling around him, trying to drag him back under, clogging his lungs and throat so he couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe, and he’s going to drown- 

A hand. A hand in his. An anchor. He gripped it like a drowning man, that’s what he was, even if it’s not quite water that was filling his lungs, he used it to haul himself to the surface of the waves, used it to steady himself against the roiling of his own mind, trying to wash him away, and someone was speaking again, the voice of the universe, the planets, the stars. 

“R’man?” He slurred, blearily looking up at the hazel eyes of his brother, his twin, who was gripping his hand so tight his knuckles had turned white, then Roman let out a soft sound of despair and hope and carefully, slowly, helped him to sit up, hugging him tight. He didn’t understand why Roman suddenly cared so much, but it was nice, being hugged, so he leaned into it, let it happen, felt himself calm at the gesture, centering him. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ree, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean any of it, and I’ve been so shitty, I’ve been the worst brother, I should have stood up for you, like you always did, always do, for me, instead I pushed you away. I almost lost you. I almost lost you and the last things I said to you were horrible. I love you. I’m so sorry, Remus, I love you.” Roman’s voice was choked, and he was surprised to find his own tears falling as he buried his head against Roman’s shoulder, crying as he felt Roman softly rocking back and forth.

“s not your fault. I’ve always been a screw up, Ro. It’s no wonder you don’t want me around, anymore.” 

“No! Remus… Remus no. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. I want you. I want you around, I want to spend all day fighting with you over stupid shit, I want to see you come careening down the stairs in clothes not even remotely matching and march out the door to school without even brushing your hair, I want to wake up at 2am to you blaring German death metal or hanging upside down from my ceiling or… or whatever other weird shit you constantly think up, I want every moment I can possibly get with you, because I… I never thought… I can’t… I can’t lose you, Ree. What am I supposed to do, if I lose you?” Roman’s voice was small and shattered, and he pressed himself closer against his twin, huge, silent tears dripping down his face. “I never want you to leave, Remus. Never.” Roman whispered, hugging him tighter, and he ignored the spasm of pain it sent through his body, because it felt so good, in all other respects. 

“Careful, Ro, I’m almost starting to think you actually like me, or something.” He mumbled, feeling Roman let out a breathy, hiccupping laugh/sob. 

“I do. So much, Remus, I do.” Roman replied, pulling back, face a mess, tear stained and disheveled, and it looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. But there was a smile, small and fragile, on his face, and Remus couldn’t help but mirror it. 

“you promise?” He asked, voice a barely there whisper, watching Roman’s face turn serious, as he met his eyes. 

“I promise. I promise, Ree. Now. I think, you two, should talk.” Roman said, tentatively getting up, and Remus had almost forgotten there was another person in the room until Logan cleared his throat, stepping around Roman and sitting stiffly in the chair beside his bed, as Roman mouthed good luck, and vanished out the door, under the guise of getting them all something to eat, and checking in with the nurses and doctors.

He sighed, staring back up at the white ceiling, almost afraid to meet Logan’s eyes, to look at his face, he didn’t know what to expect, and for some reason that scared him more than dying. 

“why?” Was the soft question, one he hadn’t expected, and he shifted, turning to look at Logan, who was looking down at his lap, hands creasing and uncreasing a tissue repetitively. 

“why what?” He asked, though he knew. Logan did look up then, something curious and almost angry in his eyes, though his face was unreadable. 

“Why did you push me out of the way? Why… why did you choose my life over yours?” He barely resists rolling his eyes, though he’s unable to stifle a scoff. 

“Why wouldn’t I? You… have a future. You’ve probably got colleges slitting each other’s throats to have you, professors already trying to recruit you to their programs, and most people with that opportunity I’d hate and want to strangle because they’re pretentious, pompous, loaded pricks! But… you aren’t. You’re smart. You’ve earned it. You deserve it. You… can actually do something, with your life, you will, because you don’t do anything unless it has actual effects. Because you’re brilliant, and burning with potential, and burning with kindness, and burning with curiosity and it’s like… like a light, in the shitty world we live in, when you learn something new, it lights up the cosmos, that look on your face.  
You’re a star, Logan. An actual, burning, brilliant, ball of energy and light and expansion and one day you’ll explode like a supernova and make something truly, purely, incredible.  
And I? I’ll just be bumming it on the streets somewhere, because that’s all I’m good at. Fucking everything up. So yeah. It wasn’t even a question of you or me, it wasn’t even a choice, I didn’t think about it, I just acted, because even if I had died, it didn’t matter. Not… not like you dying would. Not how you dying would matter, to me.” He looked away again, shame welling in his throat, hot tears slipping down his cheeks, because he always ruined everything, didn’t he?

“remus. It would matter. If you died, it would matter.” He let out a hollow laugh, too weak to even reach up and wipe away his tears. 

“Would it? I’ve thought a lot about this, Lo. I’ve thought over how I could do it, where I could do it, when would be the best time. It’s at the bottom of my to do list, really, and I just keep finding another reason to push it off. It’s come down to the timing, truly. I don’t want it to upset anyone too badly, I don’t want it to mar an important holiday or anniversary, I don’t want to leave them to clean up my mess, but I want them to be able to find me.  
Leaving a note, or maybe sending a time delayed text with my location, was my thought. Maybe jumping off one of the cliffs in the park, but I didn’t want some poor hiker to get traumatized. Maybe jumping into the sea, drowning, but then they wouldn’t have my body to bury. And it would be too messy to just cut my wrists open, then they’d have to clean up the blood, and god, won’t that be a mess? So very Me, of me, I suppose, to leave them one last work of art to scrub off the floor. One last piece no one wanted anyway, to be discarded.  
They’d be sad, but they’d move on pretty fast. Too much going on to not. Roman, going to art school, my parents, barely home anyways, with how often they work, and it’s not like I’ve got any friends. Roman’s got plenty of those, plenty of people to prop him up, once I’m gone. So yeah, me dying has pretty much a null effect on the universe.” 

“Remus.” There was something oh so soft, too soft, in Logan’s voice, and he kept his head firmly turned away, unwilling to see the pity and horror and disgust in those brilliant green eyes of his. “Remus, the chances of you existing at all are infitesimal. The chances of you living in this moment, are so slim as to be nearly nonexistent. Of course, it matters, even if you think it doesn’t, even if you believe erroneously it doesn’t matter to Roman, it matters to me.” There was a desperate edge to Logan’s voice, a break to it, that cracked through his calm exterior to his frantic heart, and Remus found his head being gently turned, the soft touch not moving away as his eyes met Logan’s, round and huge behind his glasses. 

“Your art is beautiful. I never really understood it, I still don’t, but looking at it, I know how long it takes to make, I know how painstaking it is, and that’s what makes it beautiful, makes every drop of ink or brushstroke a masterpiece. You throw yourself head first into everything you do, with no second thoughts or rationality and it’s both infuriating and amazing, because I could never fully figure you out. Some days you are loud and boisterous, and almost more flirtatious than Roman, definitely more dangerous, than Roman, and others day you’re silent and still, like the moment before the lightning crashes, the second before the twister sets down, and I want nothing more than to know what exactly you’re thinking in that moment, what is about to send you over the edge, I want to know why you think you’re so worthless, when I watch you be incredible day after day, no matter what anyone else says or thinks or teases or comments, you somehow manage to just stay yourself, and I wish I knew how you did it. I wish you knew, how perfect you really, truly, are.” He didn’t protest, as Logan’s lips met his, soft and careful and tentative, only a brush, really, but when Logan went to pull back, he managed to move his arm, managed to weakly grab hold of Logan’s. 

“please. Please stay. I don’t… it’s so dark… I don’t…” He was losing it, he could tell he was, he was slipping, and the dark was so much darker now, so much deeper, and if he fell, he didn’t know how long he could stay afloat. 

“of course.” His eyes had slipped closed, but he felt Logan carefully shifting him, before slipping onto the bed beside him, and he sighed, as Logan nestled against him, his head in the crook of his shoulder, a solid, calming weight against his back, holding him close. 

“Wha’s wrong with me, xactly?” He slurred. 

“I don’t know the full list. Punctured lung, broken ribs, broken arm, broken leg, concussion, internal organ trauma, they said… they said they nearly lost you four times total, before you stayed in stable, if severe, condition. The first time you woke, you’d been in a coma for a full week. There wasn’t anything wrong with you, necessarily, you just… wouldn’t wake up.”

“was stuck. Was you, woke me. Reading, somthin bout space.” He smiled, feeling Logan tuck back a strand of his hair, his hand brushing gently against his cheek. 

“Lonely planet’s guide to the universe. I thought… I just… I didn’t want you to think you were alone. I wanted to give you a reason to wake up. I just didn’t know how badly you needed one.” 

“I love you.” He blurted, unceremoniously, too tired to care about the consequences, his stupid mouth always speaking without his stupid brain’s stupid permission. But if he’d kept it in one moment longer, he was sure he’d explode. The silence seemed to last forever, before he realized it was because Logan was crying, and with effort, he managed to roll himself over, so he was face to face with his star. 

“I love you.” Logan said, raw sincerity burning in his throat, as he pressed their foreheads together, as his hands rested around his waist, pulling him gently close once more, this time tucking his head down against Logan’s chest, feeling him press a soft kiss to his head. “I love you, Remus. And you very nearly didn’t give me a chance to say it.” 

“what can I say? ‘M a stupid bitch.” He mumbled, half asleep already, smiling as he felt Logan’s laugh rumbling through his chest, melting more as he felt a hand carding through his hair, one still draped across his waist, anchoring him steady against the dark. 

He’d been wrong. 

Logan wasn’t a star. 

They were both planets. 

Orbiting each other, caught in the pull of gravity, slowly being pulled closer and closer-

Until they collided.


End file.
